As The Story Goes
by Trinity Everett
Summary: A collection of Caskett drabbles, ficlets, and one-shots based on tumblr prompts. Today's offering: Kate experiences the Castle DVR.
1. The Process

**As The Story Goes**

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**Author's Notes: ** _As The Story Goes_ is my collection of Castle/Beckett ficlets, drabbles, and one-shots I've written as responses to prompts. All are up on my tumblr, but I wanted to finally get them posted here. Enjoy!

For today's offering, lousiemcdoogle on tumblr prompted me with Castle walking Kate back to her car after Martha's one-woman show in Once Upon a Crime.

**Spoilers**: Season 4, post-Once Upon a Crime, Caskett, reasonably canon-compliant I think.**  
**

**Disclaimer**: I claim no ownership over Castle, Beckett, or anyone you recognize from this wonderful show. I'm simply playing with them for my own amusement.

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"Well, it looks like you made it out of the woods, Castle."

Her partner chuckled beside her, a low, easy thing that spread warmth through her belly and down to her fingertips. It made her wool coat nearly obsolete, that warmth. She loved his laugh.

Well, she loved more than that, but things were still complicated. She was trying, of course she was, but it was a process. A sometimes infuriating process, but a process nonetheless.

"Yeah, I guess I did. And you didn't even have to use your gun."

This time she was the one chuckling, allowing him to see how much his recall of her earlier gaff amused her. He'd taken his lumps all evening with relative grace; she'd let him have this. This chance to hold the door for her and make her laugh on the brief walk to her car.

"Lucky me. It probably would've been hard to explain to Gates if I had."

The smile he sent her way had her smiling back without hesitation. This was the easy part.

"I had fun tonight," she offered softly, giving his jacket sleeve a gentle tug. Her handhold earlier had been impulsive, but this touching was becoming increasingly deliberate.

"You always have fun when you and my mother gang up on me."

Well he had her there. She grinned, bumping him gently.

"Say that like your ego doesn't love being the center of attention, Castle."

He laughed again, bumping her back. They'd been doing this a lot lately. The nudges, the laughter. It was good.

"I'm glad."

"Hmm?" She lifted her eyes to his, trying to follow his train of thought. Had she said something out loud when she shouldn't have?

"Glad you had fun at my personal history's expense, Beckett."

Right. The show.

"However will your actual innocent history survive?" she drawled, biting her lip to hold whatever it was she might also say in check.

"I honestly have no idea."

"You poor thing."

"Yeah it's tough being me."

Her head dipped in amusement. Sometimes her partner could give his mother a run for her money when it came to theatrics, but it was endearing. The man loved his mother dearly, no matter how much he grumbled.

Her cruiser came into view far sooner than she would've liked and she found herself slowing down before their stroll could come to an end. It had been a good night; she really wasn't ready for it to be over. Her apartment would be dark when she let herself in, quiet and empty. Any other time the quiet might be just fine with her, but after leaving the loft it just felt lonely.

"You're not heading back to work are you?"

"What?" Her eyes darted to him, finding him studying her carefully. She'd gotten used to his scrutiny long ago. "No, no. Just heading home. It's late, there's no reason to head back in until tomorrow morning unless we get a call."

Whatever he'd been looking for in her face, he must've found because he nodded, smiling easily once more.

"Good."

"Yeah," she agreed quietly, drawing her keys out of her pocket. Her thumb worried over the ridges of her car key as she ran through their conversation options in her head. They'd run out of real estate on the sidewalk, making it time to go even if she didn't want it to be.

"So this is me." Was she really this bad at this?

"It is you," Castle observed, sounding as reluctant to say good night as she felt.

Nodding lamely in return, she shifted her weight.

"Thanks again, and thank Martha again too."

"I will."

This hadn't been a date, but it damn sure felt like it. Then again, any other date and she wouldn't be agonizing this way. She shouldn't be agonizing this way now, either. The process sucked sometimes.

"See you tomorrow, Castle."

She didn't wait for him to reply. She also didn't let herself think too hard about the kiss she pressed to his cheek. It wasn't anything substantial, over before it started really, but her cheeks flamed traitorously anyway as she unlocked her car door and slid inside.

"And oh!" she added quickly, clearing her throat and the fog from her mind. "Tell Martha I can't wait to see the pictures she digs up."

That seemed to shake Castle out of his stupor, too.

"What? No, no, that's not fair, Beckett. If you get the naked baby pictures, I do t-"

She shut the door on his protests, feeling the grin spread over her cheeks. That put things back on a more even keel, didn't it?

"Beckett! I'll call your dad!"

"Goodniiiight, Castle," she singsonged through her window, pulling away from the curb. A quick glance in her rearview mirror told her he looked as amused and dumbstruck as she'd hoped he would.

Good. It was a process and it sucked, but they were getting there.


	2. A Late Brunch

**A/N: **Today's offering for _As The Story Goes _was prompted by amtepe on tumblr: Kate telling Jim she's with Castle (sometime post 4x23).

If we're going by canon timeline, this is set post-Secret's Safe With Me, but pre-Murder He Wrote, but it can also function as a tad AU in timeline and work just after Kate goes back to work.

* * *

**A Late Brunch**

It wasn't that his daughter was never late. With her job, it happened. He wasn't always on time either, especially not on court days. Usually she remembered to text him to let him know she would be longer than expected, though. They both did. Neither of them wanted to remember how it felt to wait for someone, only to have their lives torn apart when they never arrived. Which was why he was honestly starting to worry when, half an hour after their agreed meeting time, she still wasn't there, and hadn't reached out to tell him when she would be.

"Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry. I'm sorry I'm late."

His finger paused mid-text as Katie came skidding alongside their usual booth, looking for all the world like she'd just rolled out of bed and run through a car wash instead of taking time for a shower on the way to the diner.

"Sorry, Dad. I'm so sorry." She was already hugging him when he made it to his feet. His arms banded around her tightly, a little too tightly, but she just squeezed him in response.

"That's okay, I was just sending you a text to check on you." He kissed her cheek gently, taking a beat to shut his eyes and be thankful that everything seemed to be okay.

"I know, I'm sorry. I overslept and I almost forgot my phone. I had to go back for it," she explained breathlessly. "I really thought I'd be here sooner, that's why I didn't call."

She dropped a kiss on his cheek. He'd missed this. After losing Johanna and nearly losing him to his grief, his daughter's affection had been guarded, careful. For years, she hugged him with reservation, as if she expected him to be gone when she opened her eyes. Then she made the break in Johanna's case and her hugs grew tighter, more frequent. Her smiles came more easily, too, easing his own worries just a little more.

"You're fine, Katie. Sit, you look like you need coffee."

"Oh God, tell me about it."

He smiled as she laughed at herself. Late or not, his daughter looked happier than he'd seen her in a long time.

"Is work keeping you busy?" He'd been out of the country for a few weeks, negotiating a new contract for one of his clients, and email just didn't cut it when it came to catching up with his daughter.

To his surprise, Katie's cheeks flushed a pink he hadn't seen in years. Not since she was a budding teenager and his wife used to tell him not to say a word to embarrass her.

"Work is… Well, I had some time off, but now I'm back and it's been nonstop."

Time off? She hadn't mentioned that in her emails.

"Time off?"

She sighed, fiddling with the paper placemat in front of her. "I was suspended, Dad."

"Suspended? What happened?" He knew he was frowning when she frowned too.

Instead of answering, though, her hand snaked out for his coffee cup. She'd always hated the way he drank his coffee and the face she made after a hearty sip this time was no exception, but it made for a good stalling technique and they both knew it.

"I got caught up in a case and I made a bad call. Gates had no choice but to suspend me. But now I'm back."

"Your mom's case?" he asked softly, leaning forward to touch her fingertips. She nodded almost imperceptibly.

"And mine," she confirmed, causing his throat to tighten at the possibilities. Before he could speak, though, she squeezed his hand, sitting up to accept her own cup of coffee and tailor it to something she deemed tolerable. He watched her movements carefully, smiling tightly when she lifted her head again and soldiered on, "But I've put them both away for now. Not forever, but for now, it's better this way."

He nodded in agreement, the band around his chest loosening just a little. "I think so, too. And it's good to see you looking relaxed after taking time off, instead of bored out of your mind," he murmured, trying to steer the conversation to different territory. Away from the darkness of the case, away from the pain of the previous summer, hell the previous decade.

But ah, there was the blush again. Interesting.

"I've definitely not been bored," she started, narrowing her eyes at him and sipping her coffee again. "I caught up on my reading… watched some TV."

He nodded in understanding, waiting for her to continue.

"Spent some time with Castle," she added finally, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

Oh really? Well it was about time. "I see."

She rolled her eyes just like her mother. And Johanna had always wondered where it came from. Hah.

"Don't gloat, Dad."

He schooled his expression. "Who's gloating? I'm just glad things are working out."

"And if you get up and start dancing, I'm going home," she retorted, grinning underneath the bite of her words.

"Damn, I have to cancel the jig then."

That earned him a giggle. An honest to God giggle like he hadn't heard since the nights she and Johanna would conspire against him to force a truce out of him for the sake of keeping the peace in their headstrong little family.

"Funny. But just… it's good. New, but good." Her smile agreed with her words. "But don't tell anyone, okay? Martha and Alexis know, but they kind of have to know… but nobody else besides you. Please?"

"Katie," he called, easing through her rapid-fire explanation. "I won't tell anyone about you and Rick. I promise. I'm just happy you're happy."

And just like that, the soft, happy smile was back on her face. "Thanks, Dad." She deflated just a little, making him think she'd been waiting to get that off her chest, pushing a still-damp strand of hair behind her ear. "So, have you ordered yet?"

"No, just the coffee. I was waiting for you."

She smiled again, nodding. "Good. Let's do that, then. I'm starving."

"I bet." He sipped his coffee carefully, washing her face flush even darker than before.

"Dad!"

"From rushing, Katie." Now he was smirking. She was normally so unflappable; this would be fun. "What were you talking about?"

He had to admit he'd earned the balled up package of sugar she hurled his way.

"I hate you both," she muttered. "You and Castle. He makes me late and you mock me."

"Sure you do, Sweetheart." Maybe he didn't need to know the last part, but she was on a roll.

"Yeah I do, both of you."

He was confident she didn't hate either of them, really.


	3. The Real Deal

**Title**: The Real Deal

**Rating**: T for language

**Pairing**: Castle/Beckett

**Prompt:** beckettshooha prompted me to write: Beckett's water breaks while interrogating a suspect.

**Notes**: This one ran away from me a little bit. I usually try to keep ficlets at about 1000 words, but this one is actually double that!

If she wanted to get technical, she shouldn't have still been there. After over two months of desk duty and the occasional interview, her maternity leave had officially started at 5pm, but she'd opted to stay late and finish the last of her case-related paperwork to spare the boys the nuisance. It was her gift to them as thanks for their gifts to her throughout her pregnancy. Plus, she knew that maybe she wasn't quite ready to leave for other reasons, too. She was looking forward to this time off, to spending the next two (maybe three if this child had his father's gift for procrastination) weeks preparing her mind and her home for the baby and spending time with her husband. She'd just also miss the precinct and work. She would miss the familiar tasks she was damn good at, especially once the baby came and her parenting skills were up in the air.

So when Karpowski and one of the uniforms who usually worked the desk downstairs led a scrawny, snarling young man through the bullpen, she was intrigued. Of course she was. So intrigued, she stood slowly when her fellow detective practically threw him into the box and stomped over to her desk for a file.

"Everything okay, Karpowski?" she called easily, resting her hand on top of her belly in amusement. The kid had dropped last week, which was turning out to be a blessing and a curse wrapped up in one. On one hand it was a blessing because he was no longer squishing into her ribs, on the other it was a curse because now she was full-on waddling, a fact which tickled Castle to no end.

"Ugh," that was statement enough, but Karpowski continued, "I hate kids."

Her lifted eyebrow and quick look down had Karpowski backtracking instantly, "No no, well, not _yours,_ Beckett, obviously. But demon spawns like that one in there. I'm sure yours will be great."

She gave in and laughed. "I hear ya. What's he in for anyway?"

"You mean besides pissing me off?"

"Yeah, besides that." She cocked her head, absently sliding her hand over her belly to poke at her son. He'd been relatively sedate all day, which probably meant she was in for another late night of organ football. That was fine; he was sweet even if he made her back ache day in and day out. He'd be even sweeter once he was out of her, but she would take the extra time. She needed it.

"It's the Lewis case. We tried to question him at the scene and the little punk took off."

She nodded, smiling again. Not because anyone running was funny, but Karpowski's indignation was always amusing. "Ahh."

"And you know what he said to me?"

"No, what?" The conversation helped her ignore another painful twinge in her back. Said pain had been coming and going most of the day along with the Braxton-Hicks contractions that had sent her and Castle to the ER on what they were affectionately (now that the embarrassment had worn off) calling their 'baby-having dry-run.'

"He said he was surprised I caught him since there were no donuts at the end of the race."

She snorted. "Original."

"Little shit. Anyway, I'm gonna let him squirm for a few before I go in there and get a straight answer out of him."

"You want me to try? I'm not heading home yet, I could try the fake labor gag again?" She grinned, remembering the first time she had decided to have a little bit of harmless fun with someone in the box.

She'd just started her desk duty and was frankly more than a little bored. When some gang banger wannabe thought he'd get under her skin with comments about her being pregnant, she pretended to go into labor in return. And oh, had he talked; he had spewed his story between panicky "Oh come on!"s. She wasn't ashamed to say she'd laughed her ass off after LT came in to haul the man away. Half a dozen fake Oscars had found their way onto her desk before the day was out, and her husband had insisted on displaying them in his office beside the other trinkets he'd collected from their various cases.

"Nah, Beckett, it's okay. I got this one."

"You sure? It'll give me a laugh before I head home for months," she wheedled. "Plus, it'll knock him down a peg. Don't you want that?"

She felt her back spasm again, but she ignored it in favor of turning pleading eyes on her colleague.

"Five minutes. By then my ride will probably be here, too."

"Who, Castle?"

"Who else? He's picking up dinner or something on the way in, some contribution for the party the boys think they're being sneaky about planning behind my back."

Karpowski's surprised face made her chuckle.

"Oh come on, did anyone actually think they'd pull it off? A surprise? From me?" Yes, she had a bad case of pregnancy brain, but she still wouldn't be fooled. They'd been "sneaking" around for days, taking calls and looking over their shoulders at her. Yeah, they weren't fooling anyone. "If I leave now, it'll ruin it for them and I don't want to watch Castle pout all night."

"Okay, okay, have your fun, Beckett."

She rubbed her belly in triumph, using the moment to urge the false contractions to ease up. She didn't want to be off her game.

"Alright, give me the folder, I'm going in."

The folder hit her palm with an all-too satisfactory smack. Karpowski snickered, but stepped aside.

"Give 'em hell."

"Always do." She pushed the door open, ignoring the way the kid – if a nineteen year old with that many non-sealed arrests on their record really counted as a kid – looked her over and scoffed.

"Well you're not what I expected. Nice rack, but I was hoping for someone a little less knocked up."

"Rack jokes, clever. Why'd you run from my colleagues, Mr. Sanders?"

He shrugged, leaning back in the chair. "I was late for work. It's a dog eat dog world, can't lose my job."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, you'll have a hard time keeping that job when you go away for murder. Guess you need to get in all the overtime you can."

"Whoa, lady. I didn't kill anybody. I just didn't want to answer any stupid questions. You know how it is."

She slapped the folder on the table, using the motion to cover the tensing in her belly. That one had a surprising amount of kick to it.

"Yes, that sounds like a ringing endorsement for your innocence."

"Yeah, well, it is."

"Funny, we have evidence that says oth-otherwise," she stuttered as the pressure increased again. Okay, maybe she had overdone it today. "The evide- shit." Her hand landed on her stomach, making a valiant attempt at massaging the cramp away. This wasn't the plan; this was feeling very real.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Are you dropping that kid right here? Isn't that against my civil rights or something?"

She gritted her teeth. "Shut up. You're in here because you ran from questioning, which made you look suspicious. Because you ran, uniforms searched your place and found even more suspicious materials." She fixed him with a look. "Care to explain those?"

He was off balance at least. So that part of the plan was working.

"Look, lady, I dunno what they found, but I didn't kill anybody. I wasn't even there."

"Sure you weren't." She exhaled, pressing her hand against her stomach again.

"I wasn't, I was with a lady friend. Her rack was almost as good as yours, by the way. Minus the other thing."

She ignored the dig. "Oh I'm sure you had plenty of time to take care of him after your minute and a half was up."

"Hey! Just because you're too knocked up to have good sex anymore doesn't mean you can insult my abilities."

She had half a mind to tell him exactly how good her "knocked up" sex was – when she wasn't feeling like a flopping, uncoordinated beached whale, of course. In fact, it had been damn good that morning. Castle cheerfully called it celebratory "going on maternity leave" sex as they'd both dressed on shaky legs. She didn't say any of that, though.

"Anyway, Mr. Sanders. Tell me about the victim. You knew him. You'd been see-" she halted, shifting her hips as the pressure came again. "Seen arguing with him. The day before he died, in fact. Tell me, what were you arguing about?"

"Nothing I'd kill the guy over. The asshole stole my newspaper. I'm an intellectual guy, you know."

"Yeah, sure you are." This time she couldn't hide her grimace. Shit, the pressure wasn't going away. "What did you arg-" Oh, fuck. That was no – no, no, that was _not_ what she thought it was.

"Shit, you're gonna pop that kid out right now."

"N-no. No I'm not."

Except… shit. Yes, she actually might. Oh, shit. Was she _really_ in labor?

"Answer the question," she gritted, flattening her hand against her stomach. This was not happening. Not here, not yet. It was another false alarm, it had to be.

Her charge squirmed in his seat, looking increasingly uncomfortable with her discomfort. Good. He should be.

"Start talking," she insisted. "Or maybe I will drop this kid right here. Those are contractions, you know."

"Shit, lady, don't do that here. Go to a hospital or something."

"Why not tell me what I need to know?" Her teeth ground a little on the last syllables. Yeah, she was in labor. Those weren't Braxton-Hicks; those weren't false alarm contractions. Those were real. "It gets you out of here faster. Gets me out of here. I know you want that."

"Look, as much as the moaning might be a turn on, you gotta go take care of that," he tried again. "I didn't kill anyone, I didn't!"

She shifted her feet, trying to alleviate some of the discomfort. It didn't work, but he was starting to talk. She couldn't stop now.

"What were you arguing about? And don't tell me your newspaper."

"Fine! He borrowed money from me and blew it. All of it. The asshole was so far in debt it was gonna take him ten years or something stupid to get out of it. And I was pissed, but I didn't kill him. He'd never pay me back if he was dead."

Now she was getting somewhere.

"Who'd he owe the money to?" There, now the pain was settling. She could handle this. Real labor or not, she could handle this.

"Some bookie."

"What bookie?" She grunted for emphasis, as if she was experiencing another contraction.

"Some guy! I don't know his name. Do I look like a gambler?"

No, he looked like a tweaker, but she didn't say that. She straightened a little, feeling another very real twinge starting. It was stronger this time. She hissed through her teeth.

"You've seen him? Describe him."

Her hand slid under her belly, as if the touch would soothe things into submission. Her doctor had told her once the baby dropped it could be any day, but that didn't mean it should be this day. She wasn't ready!

He eyed her warily, but started firing off details. She nodded, even though she wasn't really listening. Instead she was thinking. Rethinking her entire day, trying to figure out when this started. When she had gone into labor.

Then she remembered the article Castle gleefully read to her after their last doctor's appointment. The one that detailed all the ways they could try to jump start labor if they needed to. The method that stuck out?

Sex.

_Shit_.

"Anyway, I only saw him on – shit lady, are you okay?"

"Fine, I'm fine. But you're going to have to tell another detective. I have to go. My water just broke."

Yeah, it would've been nice if she'd been joking, running the gag like she had before, but unless she'd just lost all control of her bladder, she definitely wasn't.

"Karpowski!" she bellowed, ignoring the kid's stricken, wide eyes and fearful questions as she waddled as quickly as her damp slacks allowed. "Get in here and bring a mop."

She took a deep breath, reaching for the doorknob. "And someone call Castle!"


	4. The Handyman Can

**Title: **The Handyman Can

**Spoilers**: Brief mention of 6x23, Future!fic

**Pairing**: Castle/Beckett

**Notes**: So I really love Jim, I cannot lie. Prompted by amtepe: Castle and Jim Beckett work on a project together.

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He loved Richard Castle like a son. He adored the man for bringing light back into his daughter's life and bringing family back to him as well. Rick made Katie whole in a way no one else ever could; he made her smile, made her think. He even made Jim himself think nearly every time they saw each other. All told, he was a nearly ideal son-in-law, if there was such a thing. Except for one detail:

A handyman, Rick Castle was not.

Even that was endearing, though. Jim knew all about Rick's history; he knew the man's father hadn't been there, and his mother, while wonderful, couldn't be both parents in every way. He knew wood shop wasn't in the curriculum at the boarding schools Rick had attended growing up and supers were the ones who took care of most of the issues that cropped up in apartments in New York. There was no shame in not being handy, but Jim was still more than willing to step in and help fill that void in Rick's life.

When Johanna died, he hadn't been much of a father to Katie. Not for a long time (too long). Even when he found himself again, things had changed dramatically. He knew he'd never be able to make up for that lost time with his child, but maybe taking Rick under his wing in some way helped to atone for the past. For the sins of Rick's father. And that included taking Rick to Home Depot with a list of supplies to buy for their project.

He knew normally Rick would have called someone to fix it – his son-in-law was famous for "having a guy" for everything – but when they'd noticed the damage to the fence and the gate around the pool, Jim had volunteered them both to take care of it. Much to Rick's excitement and Katie's combination amusement and concern. It wasn't a complicated project. Replace a couple boards and replace the latch with one that wouldn't open at the slightest hint of wind. They would absolutely be able to handle it in an afternoon. Jim had taken care of much worse growing up, so even though they both knew Rick hadn't, they would be fine. They just needed to get started.

"So where do we start, Jim?"

He reached out to take the crumpled list from Rick's hand, smiling at the eagerness on the younger man's face.

"We'll start with the little things. Wood screws, nails, the brackets, and the new latch. Then we'll take care of getting them to cut the wood down to size for us."

Rick nodded thoughtfully, no doubt mulling the list over in his head. "What about tools? Gloves?"

He laughed. "I checked before we left and you're pretty well-equipped, Rick." At that, he watched Rick's face fall just a little. "But you could probably use another pair of gloves if you want. Your hands are bigger than the ones I saw."

"Right," Rick replied, flexing his fingers against the handle of the shopping cart. His wedding ring tapped against the plastic when he gripped the bar once more. "Sounds good. I'll grab those then."

He nodded easily, pleased to see the excitement returning. Katie was ten the last time she'd been this excited to be in a hardware store with him. It was a nice feeling.

"Good. So let's start here and work our way to the lumber."

"Great!"

And just like that, they were off. Two men – father and son-in-law – buying the tools to fix their home.

Of course that didn't quite take the fact that his son-in-law was Richard Castle into account. Each aisle had a new question from Rick, which in turn led to more questions. He remembered Katie lamenting the man's inquisitive nature early on in their partnership, but Jim knew to take it in stride. He was eager. He wanted to know and learn the things he wasn't an expert on. Even if that thirst for knowledge resulted in questions like, "would a handheld screwdriver be able to penetrate clothing and restrain someone, or would a hammer and nails work better."

"I have no idea, Rick. Maybe Katie knows?"

Rick stopped in the middle of the aisle, grabbing his phone out of his back pocket. "I'll ask her, but I may have to try it anyway."

"Try it?" Jim lifted an eyebrow. "Do you do that… often?"

He shrugged. "Not as often as I used to. Seeing everything else in action is usually good, but sometimes it's just the finer details I need."

Jim nodded. Details he understood. Details could make or break a case.

"Well, if you need to find out, I'd suggest the longer screws and a flathead screwdriver. And I'd suggest grabbing another roll of duct tape, too."

Rick's fingers snapped eagerly. "You're so right, Jim. So right. This is what I love about you Becketts. You're so smart."

The extra items hit the bottom of their cart with a flourish.

Jim laughed softly. "Happy to help today, Rick."

"I mean it. If this works, it'll be perfect for the next book."

"Well good. I'm glad. Now, what's next on our list?"

Somehow they managed to make it to the lumber before his phone rang. They'd stopped a few more times for Rick to bounce ideas off of him and ultimately throw a few more "research" items in the cart, but they were making relatively good time. All things considered. Giving his son-in-law a nod, he left Rick giving the young man at the saw the third degree about getting the right cut, and stepped back to check his phone.

As expected, it was a text from his daughter. Also as expected, she was… concerned about their progress and wanted to check in without worrying Rick. It had been more than a year, but he knew how she felt when they were here. She still worried for Rick and for him if it felt like they were delayed on the way back to the sprawling Hamptons house. After everything he couldn't blame her for being skittish.

He hated typing on that stupid phone of his, so he called her back. "We're okay, Katie. We're having a good time, but we'll be home soon."

"You're still at the store?"

"We're still at the store, but we're finishing up. Rick's getting tips on using the saw."

"Yeah, I've heard all about the tips you're giving him. Use the flathead screwdriver, Dad? Really?"

He chuckled. "We'll be done soon, I promise. Now, I'm going to get the wood and pass along some more wisdom to your husband."

"Oh good, just what Castle needs." She was laughing, though, as happy as he was that they'd managed to make this trip work out. "See you soon. Don't let him torment the poor guy for too long."

Oh he wouldn't. They had a project to work on after all.


	5. Late Night Lives

**Title**: Late Night Lives

**Pairing**: Castle/Beckett

**Spoilers**: Probable Cause (5x05)

**Rating**: High T, low M, non-graphic mention of sexy times.

**Prompt**: dontgiveup88/nikkibeckettcsm prompted me to write "The first time Castle begins to notice that their or signs of Beckett in his room, like a few months or weeks after they got together and there are little reminders of her presence […]" I can't say this follows the prompt exactly, but hopefully it works!

* * *

He should've been asleep, but he just couldn't close his eyes. Every corner held a shadow, the potential for an intruder to emerge. He half expected Tyson to come back and finish the job; to kill him maybe, but more likely to hurt Kate and make it look like he'd done it. To make it look like he'd snapped under the pressure of a murder arrest and affair accusations and taken it out on his partner, the woman who'd defended him in the face of every bit of damning, hurtful evidence. The woman curled at his side, her slim fingers brushing his chest as she caught up on the sleep she'd no doubt lost while he'd been locked away in holding. Their earlier life-affirming activities probably hadn't helped her energy levels either.

But while she slept, he wouldn't. He couldn't. He wouldn't give Tyson another chance to take this from him.

In truth it was a little strange to be in his bed knowing just two days ago, a day ago, people he called his friends had been here searching the room for proof that he'd been lying to her – to everyone – about sharing his life with another and going so far as to kill the girl to cover it up. Their friends had searched his drawers, the closets, the bathroom, probably even between the sheets and under his mattress, too. And yes, they'd found proof of his life with someone; his life with Kate. A life they'd wanted to keep to themselves for no reason other than it was _theirs_.

Now they all knew. Or almost everyone knew. He had no idea how Gates couldn't know after the last few days, and he had no idea how she would handle it the next time he went to the precinct. All he could be grateful for was she hadn't been with the group to walk through his home. Gates might be the only one who didn't see Kate's toothbrush beside his in the bathroom. The others saw her shampoo and conditioner on the ledge and her bright green razor in the shower. The others saw her shoes – kick ass boots and feminine ballet flats alike – in his closet and the clothing he was slowly convincing her it was easier to leave here instead of forcing her to go home in the mornings.

It wasn't moving in by any stretch. Truthfully, they spent just as much time at her place as they did his, but it made him feel good to share with her. It was a way for her to know everything in him still ached for her months after they'd started this new chapter together.

He wasn't sure how to feel now. Not about her, of course. Never about them. They were the thing that made sense now that everything else felt raw and violated. He was scrutinizing every knick knack and possession in the dark and trying to determine if it'd been moved by the NYPD or by Jerry Tyson. He'd spent too many hours wondering where the bugs that'd recorded every touch, every whisper, every kiss he and Kate shared for who knew how long had been. He was almost sure they weren't there anymore unless Tyson had another underground lair where he was hiding to keep spying on him, on them, and relish in the aftermath of his scheming.

"Castle." He jumped just enough at the interruption of his thoughts to make her rub his chest to soothe him. "Hey, hey, it's okay."

Her voice was throaty with sleep, making him wonder if he'd somehow woken her, or if she'd just known he wasn't asleep.

"Sorry," he whispered, covering her hand and thumbing her knuckles. "I'm okay. Go back to sleep, Kate."

She kissed his chest in response, humming into his skin. She was always a bit more demonstrative when she was tired. Not that he wanted for her affection any time, it just always came a little more readily when she was sleepy.

"What is it?"

"Do you think he searched everything the same way you did? By you I mean the NYPD, not you you," he added the last part when she started to stiffen against him. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't exactly think of himself as one of the NYPD's own right now. Detective Beckett had stood by him, but he knew what it had cost her to do so; putting her faith in him instead of the evidence hadn't come easily.

"Castle," she exhaled, pushing up until they were nose to nose. "I think he's gone and he doesn't deserve another minute of our time. Of your time." She kissed him firmly then, like she was settling the matter once and for all.

He wanted to believe it was.

"I know, but do you think he used your procedures? He got my fingerprints, Beckett. He hid _cameras_ in here – and he used them to watch us – he planted those things in my bag and I had no idea. He unassed this place better than we ever have."

Her thumb slid over his jaw. "Castle, hey, hey. Breathe."

"He saw everything, Kate. My entire life. Our entire lives. Everyone saw it. They saw your shoes and your clothes. Probably saw your bra –"

"I don't have a bra here."

"Laundry room. I washed it, it's hanging up. I didn't expect anyone to see it."

"Besides your mom."

"Besides her."

"And Alexis," she reminded, earning a wince. Alexis had been in there doing laundry just a few days ago, the same day all this started.

"They're not Jerry Tyson. Or Ryan. Or Esposito. Or LT, or anyone who came in here and searched the place."

She made another soothing noise. "I know. I know, Castle. I'm sorry." She kissed him softly. "I'm so sorry we had to. I'm sorry I had to bring them here."

He cut her off with a hard kiss. "Stop, Kate. It's not your fault. It's not."

His hand slid through her hair. "I know it's not your fault, Kate. I just…"

He trailed off as she started to mirror his movements, fingers sliding first through his hair and then coming up to smooth across his forehead, urging his tension away.

"I know." Her lips touched his forehead and she settled more firmly against him, pressing every sinful curve to his. No doubt awakening yet another part of him. To be honest, that part he didn't mind awakening so much.

"Castle, I know. You didn't do this. He did. And yes, I hate the thought of anyone rifling through the underwear I could swear I _hadn't_ left here," she paused, pressing a kiss to his lips to let him know she was onto him. She pulled back just as his tongue darted out, continuing, "but it's done. We'll clean the rest of the mess up, even change the blinds, the locks, and the security codes tomorrow. If you want."

His eyes closed as a shred of relief surged through him. "Okay, yeah let's do that. New blinds in here, in the other bedrooms too. And I'll call my guy about the locks and the security system."

"Okay," she agreed, lightly scratching his head. Just having a plan helped and she knew it. They liked having plans, both of them. "And I'll make you another deal if you're interested."

"Mmm?" he forced an eye open. Her plan to calm him into sleepy submission was working. "M'always interested in your deals, Beckett."

"In that case, the deal is you get to pick out one or two pieces of clothing for me to leave here and I'll swap them out with what was poked at, observed, and rifled through."

He blinked, hand coming up to cup her shoulder. "One or two outfits?"

"One or two pieces, Castle."

His mouth slid over hers, tongue parting her lips eagerly. It wasn't just an offer to let him purge the memory of Jerry Tyson pawing through their combined clothing, it was the promise that this wouldn't break them. Tyson's games – his lies – wouldn't break this thing they'd both worked so damn hard for, no matter how much the evidence had been stacked against them.

"Mhmm, one or two pieces," she warned, rocking against him. He bit back the groan. "No more, no less."

Right. Like he was going to stop at one or two measly pieces for this woman who wore everything like the hottest model he'd ever seen. From her grin, she didn't believe he'd refrain either. She knew she'd have at least half a dozen new things before the end of his shopping day.

"No more, Kate?" he breathed, flipping them easily and settling into the welcoming cradle of her hips. She gripped him as their bodies joined, exhaling a stuttering breath he couldn't help but echo. "Are you sure?"

His lips slid up the long column of her neck in time with his first gentle thrust. "Not a single bit more?" he hummed.

"Oh fu- fine. Fine, Castle, more. Go crazy."

She pulled his head back to hers, lips crashing hard against his.

"Go nuts, Castle. Just don't stop."

He grinned, feeling the last few days start to slough off finally. "If you insist, Beckett."


	6. Empty Slots Filled

**Title:** Empty Slots Filled

**Pairing**: Castle/Beckett

**Word Count**: 3,257

**Spoilers**: 6x23. Speculation only for Season 7.

**Prompt**: "how you think caskett will reunite in season 7," from a lovely anonymous reader.

**Note**: I'm going to start posting a new fic soon, hopefully, so I want to get as many of my already filled prompts up. Hope everyone doesn't mind updates coming a little bit faster than they have been!

* * *

If it hadn't been for a fax machine and a photo, they wouldn't have called her.

She'd been kicked out of the precinct hours earlier, long after Gates and most of the day shift had already clocked out for the night. Espo got the hard job of taking her nearly full coffee mug from her hand – giving Ryan a night off from taking the brunt of her annoyance since he usually suggested knocking off together and used his kid as the perfect cover – and pushing her out the door into the warm summer air.

Sleep had been calling for hours, but instead she'd ignored it, choosing to take the longest way possible back to the loft – her home, her almost home. Nothing felt much like home anymore, but Martha and Alexis tried for her, so she tried for them. She only went to her apartment when there was something new to add to the reconstructed board in the window.

Gates turned a blind eye to them working a non-homicide in their down time, but they all knew another few weeks and she would have to put her foot down. The board at home was her backup for when that happened.

Honestly, there hadn't been much to add lately. It had been weeks and nothing. CSU had managed to collect little to no evidence from his torched car. There were no witnesses along that road on their wedding day, not that that particular stretch was ever congested beyond major vacation holidays. They had received no word from kidnappers, no outrageous ransom demands, nothing. Just silence and a gaping, empty space in her life where Richard Castle once was.

Supposedly, Missing Persons and the FBI had jurisdiction. Supposedly, it was being handled. All she knew was whenever she checked in (admittedly, it was sometimes upwards of ten times a day) there was nothing.

Her fiancé – _Castle_ – was just gone.

After a week of fruitless investigating, someone at Black Pawn got the idea to release the story to the media, release statements and appeals from his family for anyone with information to contact the NYPD. As always, hundreds of calls and emails flooded in. All of them were cranks, false reports, flat out lies, misinformation. The FBI got involved after some claimed he'd been spotted in Vegas laughing it up at Jay Leno's stand-up show. Other reports claimed he'd gotten cold feet, decided he just didn't want to marry _her_ and run off with them; each claiming to be his one true love, of course. It didn't matter what the story was; it was still bogus and Castle was still gone.

Bogus or not, though, she'd looked into as many of them as she could. She had run herself ragged trying to corroborate people's bullshit stories. The boys had been the ones to convince her to step back. To let them handle the tip line. They'd vowed she'd be notified if anything credible came in, but they wouldn't let her continue to run at nothing.

_"Beckett, they _found_ him."_

By the time the call came in, she'd been away from the precinct for three hours, but in bed for less than one, having finally been unable to avoid crawling between sheets that hadn't been shared in far too long. At first, she'd thought they were talking about their case, the one they just hadn't quite made all the connections for yet. She was so damn glad to be wrong, though. So damn glad the hospital had faxed a picture to prove they weren't chasing down a ghost. She was so damn glad someone efficient was staffing the tip line desk and that they'd called the boys before anyone else. The FBI needed to be involved, of course, but finding Castle was about more than jurisdiction, it was about a man who was loved and missed so very much coming home to his family.

She woke Martha and Alexis before she'd even hung up the phone. After the first dead end tip had resulted in her sneaking out of the loft in the dead of night and scaring the living daylights out of them both, they had made a deal. Even if it turned out to be nothing, if a call came in the middle of the night, she woke them to let them know she was going.

This time, instead of being content to stay behind, both women met her downstairs and staunchly refused to do anything but come with her. If Ryan or Esposito were surprised to see three of them waiting outside the loft when they arrived twenty minutes later, they didn't show it.

It wasn't the most ideal drive she'd ever made. It was cramped sitting in the back of the Charger with Alexis between her and Martha as Kevin gave them the rundown he had gotten from the hospital in Warwick, Rhode Island, but she didn't care. She would sit for ten hours in a box if it meant bringing Castle home. She had a feeling they all would, Ryan and Espo included.

"Hey, Kev?" she called softly, doing her best not to disturb the others. Alexis had dozed off around 5:15 once there was no more information to be shared, and Martha followed about half an hour after that.

"Yeah, Beckett?" He glanced back, looking between the three of them carefully.

"You saw the picture… how bad is he?"

She could tell he had held things back earlier, carefully avoiding mentioning Castle's condition while giving them whatever other information he knew.

"From the picture? Pretty beat up. Looked like a broken nose, cuts all over his face."

She nodded slowly. "And the rest? Did they say anything else?"

Ryan swallowed, looking at Espo as if they'd been planning the best way to tell her bad news.

"Guys, what?" she insisted.

"Broken fingers. His leg's busted, too. That's all they told us,"

"But?" she prompted, waiting for whatever they weren't saying.

"But it could be worse than that. They also have no idea where he came from. It looks like he either jumped from a car or he was tossed… while it was moving. Cops picked him up when someone thought a deer had been hit and called it in."

Her stomach lurched.

"Was he conscious?"

"Not when they brought him in. He came around during their exam."

Esposito's eyes darted to her in the mirror. "He asked for you, Beckett. That's when it clicked for the nurse, and she contacted us."

She swallowed, rubbing her hand over her forehead. "Okay, that's… better than I was expecting."

Both men nodded. They'd all been expecting a coma or some other debilitating injury.

"What about local police? Are they looking for whoever d-dropped him off? Does he know who had him?"

"They said they'd get his statement once the docs let them. We put 'em in contact with the feebs. More manpower to look, less bureaucrapsy for us."

Ryan's affectionate nicknames had the desired effect. She managed a smile for him.

"Good call." She wanted to be on the team that got whoever did this, but not more than she needed to be at Castle's side.

"Figured we'd focus on getting to you to him and him to you," Javi added.

"Thanks guys." It was a feeble way of sharing her appreciation, but at six am, it was all she had.

"Hey, you know us. We also figure Castle'll probably let us have the Ferrari while you're on your honeymoon."

She swiped at her eyes, trying to banish the moisture from falling. "For this, he'll probably buy you guys your own."

"That'd be cool."

"We'd be okay with that."

It was a well-practiced response, but it made her smile anyway. She twisted her engagement ring quickly. She hadn't taken it off since her wedding day, except to bathe, and she wasn't going to move it until there was another ring joining it.

"Hey Beckett, why don't you rest or something until we get there? We'll be a little early for visiting hours."

"I don't care when we make it, they're letting me in," she growled, watching as the passing scenery grew lighter with each minute that went by.

Thankfully, Javi threw the gumball as they got closer. The road had been empty enough in the middle of the night not to need it, but as the morning progressed, they needed the ability to zip around the slower drivers. As the drive went on, she'd wondered more and more if Castle's life was still in danger. She was glad the locals were staying put at the hospital, but it didn't concern her any less. The faster they got to there, the better. She wouldn't give anyone the chance to come back and finish what they started.

She stopped herself from jumping out of the car as soon as they parked, instead turning to wake Martha and Alexis gently. Ryan and Esposito were already out of the car by the time the others opened their eyes.

"We're here," she murmured. "The guys are getting someone to tell us what's going on and if we can see him yet."

Alexis nodded slowly, wiping the sleep from her eyes. "Okay. Let's go."

A glance at Martha yielded another affirmative. They agreed. No more waiting.

Espo met them just inside the ER doors, gesturing back behind the double doors quickly. "Ryan's tracking down a doc for you."

"Thanks, Javi."

She took a moment to lean on her friend before straightening and touching Martha's arm, offering her a hug. Alexis joined them half a second later.

The Castles, all of them, were huggers. It had taken some getting used to, but they were in this together. Three women who loved Richard Castle, a family. If they needed hugs to help make it through, hugs they would get.

"Beckett."

Her eyes popped open to find Ryan standing with a redhead in hunter green scrubs. He'd found a doctor. Thank God.

"Yes. Yes, Kate Beckett. Detective." She extended her hand to the doctor. "We are so glad you called, well contacted. How is he?"

"You're all family?"

"Yes. This is Rick's daughter and his mother. I'm his fiancée," she explained, standing a little taller to make sure her badge was also visible, just in case. "I hold his medical power of attorney. What can you tell us?"

Martha squeezed her waist in solidarity. It felt good to be able to say all of that. It felt good to have credibility again, instead of being treated like the grieving not-widow.

The doctor glanced between them again, but nodded.

Alexis stepped closer once more as the doctor outlined her father's more serious injuries, including the break to his nose, which they were concerned might actually need surgery.

"But you're monitoring him for now and you'll decide later if he needs the surgery?" Alexis asked when nobody else did.

"Right. We're getting him cleaned up and rehydrated and we'll see how he does throughout the day. After that we can discuss the options."

The three of them nodded. That was good news. If he wasn't being rushed into emergency surgery, that was good.

"When can we see him?" she asked, rubbing Martha's arm.

"It's normal policy to wait until visiting hours, but under the circumstances I'll make an exception. Give us another few minutes to finish splinting his fingers and make him comfortable in his room, and then we'll take you back."

Disappointment settled heavily on her shoulders, but she nodded anyway. It had been weeks already, she could handle another half an hour.

"Of course." She looped her arm around Alexis, squeezing her quickly. "We'll wait here."

"Actually," Ryan piped up, giving her a long look that said he was planning something. "He's a witness in our ongoing investigation; we need a cop to stay with him."

Oh, she could kiss him.

"Detective Ryan's right. I'll stay with him," she volunteered, before anyone could mention the local unis she was sure were guarding him. She earned twin nods of approval from Alexis and Martha and stepped forward. "Lead the way, Doctor."

Castle would be proud of her. He loved when she threw her weight around.

"He's just through here, Detective. We have him on light painkillers to take the edge off but keep him lucid enough for our tests."

She nodded, barely focusing on anything but the anticipation and excitement rolling around in her belly. There was a healthy amount of terror, too.

Somehow he managed to spot her first, and underneath the harsh shadows of bruises and cuts (and oh, his poor nose) she watched him light up. It made her heart stutter. Oh god, it was really him. She stumbled around the doc to get to him faster.

"Kate! Kate, Kate, Kate," he chanted, voice strained and somewhat nasally from the gauze they'd packed in his nose to stop the bleeding.

"I'm here, Castle," she assured, reaching for him from halfway across the room.

Ignoring the admonishments to be careful of his IV was easy when she was so close to him. Hurting him was the last thing on her mind.

"Oh God, Castle," she breathed, forcing the words beyond the tightness in her throat. Tears pricked her eyes as her fingers touched him finally. Her lips connected wherever they could, drinking him in, ignoring the tang of sweat and blood and everything else on his skin. He was here. He was here, alive and real, and saying her name.

Their mouths connected. Finally, finally, finally. Finally, she was able to swipe her lips across his and slick her tongue into his mouth. Finally, she was able to hold his face between her palms and kiss him over and over like a starving woman.

The throat clearing that followed his groan was just barely enough to break them apart, but somehow she managed to step back and smooth the pad of her thumb over his lip. He smiled, eyes watery, as his lips puckered against her thumb. It was all she could do not to lean in and drink another long kiss from his mouth, audience be damned.

"Are you okay?" The words came out as one. They were always on the same page, weren't they?

She dipped her head, feeling the tears she'd been holding in for so long slip down her face. His thumb swiped over her cheek, smoothing the salt water into her skin. She mirrored the gesture for him, sniffing quickly.

"You're okay. You're going to be okay."

It wasn't a request. It was an order, a directive she knew neither of them would dare to disobey.

"You, too, Kate," he promised, tugging her back in. This kiss was soft, far less frantic than their first few. This kiss was the kiss they shared in the mornings after a lazy round of lovemaking, before one of them rolled out of bed to get their coffee going. This kiss was a good kiss, a promise for more mornings to come.

As soon as it was over, he was commanded to sit still and allow them to finish splinting his broken fingers. He turned back, looking sheepish, but she simply sidled closer, pressing her face against him. Judging by the sections of darkened, matted hair, he had cuts on his head, too. She guessed either they had stopped bleeding on their own or the nurses had already stitched him up while he was unconscious. He didn't seem to be in any pain, though, so she didn't move away, just made sure to be gentle with him.

She needed to ask him what happened. She needed to have a direction for her to do her job, to find whoever did this to him and make them pay. She wouldn't ask, though, not until they were alone.

"I love you," she whispered, lips sliding over the greasy strands of his hair. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Love you, too, Kate. I love you, too."

She wiped her eyes quickly. "Your mom and Alexis are here. They had to wait outside. I'm your police protection. No offense to you guys," she acknowledged the local cops finally, receiving twin nods in return.

When he smiled, she decided to slide onto the gurney with him. It was an indelicate, unprofessional, and probably immature move, but she didn't care. Castle didn't care, she didn't care.

"Ryan and Esposito are here, too," she added quietly, trying not to watch the doctor manipulate her fiancé's broken digits. His leg was already in a cast – bright green, of course – from the knee down, which made her feel somewhat better. He was already starting the healing process. That was good.

She slid her fingers through his hair carefully, trying to offer her own brand of healing.

"Good," he hummed, leaning into her hand. He was tired. She could tell by the way his shoulders slumped and the way his head kept dipping. He was hanging in there, though. "Hey, where are my clothes? You'll need those for evidence, right?"

"Yeah we will," she confirmed, kissing his temple gently to keep him still. She glanced around the room only to have the doctor nod to a bag on a chair in the corner.

"Everything he was wearing when he came in is in there. We salvaged as much as we could, but some of it was pretty ripped up already."

"Thanks," she rubbed Castle's neck. "It's there, Castle, we got it."

"It's not my tux. That got ruined," he murmured, giving her an apologetic look she couldn't help but kiss. She wanted to ask him who had given him the new clothes, but he was already talking again, "I managed to save our marriage license, though. Hid it in my underwear. Hopefully it's still okay. Wanna get hitched?"

Oh, _Castle_.

"Yes, yes I do," she promised, resting her forehead on his cheek before he could see her eyes mist over again. "But when you're wearing pants and not concussed." She touched his leg, brushing the edge of his hospital gown for emphasis.

"Bright green cast okay?"

"Mhmm, bright green cast and all."

"Good."

She smiled softly. "Good." She waited a beat, eyes locked on his face. "I'll even wear eye black so we match."

It was a gamble, making the joke, but it worked. He grinned and the movement was enough to banish the memory of whatever else he'd lived through from his eyes.

"You would _mock_ your husband-to-be's injuries, Beckett? I'm hurt."

They both knew he wasn't, but still she pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to one of the dark smudges under his eyes.

"It could be football-themed. Maybe we could have the ceremony on the 50-yard line at MetLife Stadium."

"Please, Beckett. We're not Jets fans, don't be insulting."

She couldn't resist tasting his grin. She had a feeling there would be many things she wouldn't be able to resist doing now that he was home. She wanted him to share in her joy.

"We'll figure it out," she vowed.

"Don't we always?"

Yeah they did. They always did.

He reached for her hand silently, carefully slotting their fingers together. The fit wasn't perfect; his wide fingers stretched her hand in a way that probably should've been uncomfortable, but somehow the imperfections made it just right. All the empty spaces were filled.

Yes, she had questions – dozens, hundreds of them – but for now she was going to be grateful to have him home. No more, no less. No questions, no manhunts, just him.


	7. DVR Management

**DVR Management**

_**Future!Fic- ish**_

_**No spoilers**_

_**Prompted by amtepe on tumblr: Kate + Castle's DVR**_

* * *

"Now, you're sure you'll be okay?"

Normally the question would be sweet. In fact, it _had_ been sweet the first seven times he asked. Now that they were onto the eighth repetition, though, she has to fight not to roll her eyes.

"Castle, babe, stop. I'm _fine_. Go to your meeting." She wipes her nose quickly, trying to spare him the carnage of seeing her snot. He loves her, she loves him, and because of that, she isn't going to subject him to this any more than necessary. "It's a cold. A disgusting, unpleasant, snotty cold. That's all. I'm going to sit here, drink my tea, and blow my nose. And since I want you to still be attracted to me when all this is over, go to your meeting."

What would have normally sounded authoritative and firm just sounds nasally and petulant. Damn.

She sighs, burrowing deeper into the blankets.

"Well first of all, even your nose blowing is cute, but I'll let your moment of insanity slide because you're sick. Second, I'm going. I'm just making sure you'll be comfortable. It's a cold and you're miserable, and it sucks that you can't take anything."

Damn right it does. She loves this kid more than the world, but not being able to guzzle NyQuil and sleep this cold off is just awful.

"Yeah," she huffs, rubbing her belly quickly. "But I'm okay, Castle, I really am. I'm going to watch TV and sleep. Go to your negotiations. Give 'em hell, you know what you're worth, yadda yadda."

Castle chuckles softly, leaning in to kiss her.

"_Doon't_, I'm going to get you sick."

He steals another kiss anyway before letting her squirm into her blanket cocoon. "I sleep beside you, Kate; if I'm going to get sick, I'm gonna get sick."

Well, he has a point there.

"Okay, okay. Then make it a good one." She tugs him closer, kissing him until the need to breathe wins out. Damn her stuffy nose.

"Sorry," she mutters, blowing her nose again. "I _would_ end up sick more in the last few months than I have in years. Isn't pregnancy supposed to make you healthy and glowy? TV lied to me."

Castle's lips land on her forehead. They're cool to her, but she has a feeling that's the cold messing with her body temperature.

"You glow most of the time, Kate, just not right now."

"Yeah, yeah, hand me the remote and get out of here."

It lands in her hand with a satisfying smack.

"Rest," he warns softly, grabbing his jacket off the back of the other chair.

"Yes, _Dad_."

"Eww, not your dad, Beckett, that's gross," he calls. It carries through the loft as he slinks out the front door, leaving her finally, blissfully alone.

She loves her husband, she loves her mother-in-law, but between the two of them these last few days, she's being driven insane. Overall, Castle has been calm throughout the pregnancy – far calmer than she has – but as soon as her sinuses started to drain, he kicked into coddling overdrive, bringing Martha along for the ride. She's pregnant and sick, and miserable though the latter is, their hovering might just be worse. Sure, it was nice at first, being pampered and told not to lift a finger. But it's been three days of this ridiculous head cold and she just wants to take an hour and relax without being asked how she's feeling.

At least she has the TV. The DVR won't tell her she should put her feet up or offer her disgusting "natural" remedies to banish the illness. Their hearts are in the right places, but the DVR doesn't have a heart and that makes it even better right now.

Of course, one look at the nearly full DVR has her asking what the hell they record.

She scrolls through the list, watching in horror as each title is more atrocious than the last. Is _this_ what Castle does all day when he's not at work with her? Some of this stuff is just _awful_.

"Seriously, Castle? You recorded _Maury_. A _year_ ago?"

She sighs, pressing her palm to her belly. "Your daddy warned me once, little one. I should've listened; this DVR really does make my old one look like Masterpiece Theater. It looks like he has at least a season of Teen Mom 2, maybe more, so that should be goo –" The rest of her grumble is lose in a fit of coughing. "I'm not going to lie to you, kid, this is pretty gross. And I know it's only going to get worse when you arrive because your grandmother has already described it to me, but at least we get you out of the deal then. With this, I just get sleepy."

Her hand slides over her shirt again as she scrolls a few more times. A few titles make her groan, a few make her lift an eyebrow. Bad sci-fi, too, Castle? Really? Well, at least this one doesn't sound terrible. Temptation Lane isn't on for another 2 hours, so she's out of options. She might as well try it.

"Okay, baby, let's see what this movie's got for us. How bad could it be?"

She takes a slow sip of her peppermint tea, hoping to one day be able to taste it again, before starting the movie.

It turns out, how bad it could be is really, _really_ bad. The plot is ridiculous; damn near impossible to follow, too, and the acting is wooden. Someone actually paid money to make this? Even more baffling is why her husband, the man who whines about Nebula 9, decided to record it.

They're going to have a talk about DVR management when he gets home.

And, of course, she can't even nap now because she has to see how this train wreck of a movie turns out. She has to see how many of these stupid characters make it through to the end – through no merit of their own.

"Idiots," she mutters. "Don't go _that_ way. This is why half of you are dead. Because you're dumb."

She blows her nose quickly, tossing the tissue onto the top of an already pathetically large pile. Not that she misses any great dialog in the short time her ears are occupied. She could've blown her nose for an hour and been fine. Being sick sucks, but this movie somehow manages to suck more.

Ugh, she can't keep subjecting herself and her unborn child to this misery. There has to be something on Castle's list of recordings that isn't terrible.

"If your daddy ever tells you his taste is better than mine because I like Nebula 9, he is _lying,_ baby. Don't let him pretend."

In the end, there's not a damn thing she deems more appealing than this stupid movie her husband has recorded. The remote lands unceremoniously beside the tissue box. There isn't much time left anyway, maybe it'll miraculously get better, or everyone will die and the bad guys will take over and make Earth a smarter place.

Or, she'll manage to pass out. Her eyes are getting a little bit heavy.

It's the latter, thankfully. Not that she feels very grateful to wake up on a half-snore with drool sliding slowly down her neck. Another attractive look for Kate Beckett today. Why is it so disgusting to be sick? Why can't she be one of those women who still looks flawless, regardless of how much snot is running from her nose?

"Ugh. This is not sexy."

"Well maybe it's not to many men, but I happen to be a special breed of man who finds drool to be a turn on."

She jumps at his voice, lifting her head to find him perched on the arm of her chair. "Jeez, Castle. You scared me. Are you home early or did I sleep that long?"

He smiles softly. "Looks like you slept that long. I've been home for over an hour."

"Oh."

Swiping at her neck is just gross, but it has to be done.

"And now, I'm going to get you some homemade chicken soup for dinner. So don't worry about a thing."

Her stomach rumbles pitifully in reminder that baby wants more than crackers and toast.

"Sounds delicious."

He beams. "More tea?"

"Mmm, please." She holds the half-empty mug out to him.

Their fingers slide over one another, reminding her of dozens of coffee hand offs over the years and how each touch was a kiss they weren't quite ready to share yet. Now they have both. Or they will again, once she stops spewing mucus.

Castle's lips touch her hair gently – they probably shouldn't; she hasn't had the energy to shower in the last couple of days – before he retreats.

"How was your meeting?" she calls, twisting in an attempt to watch him move around the kitchen through the open shelves.

"It was good. The contracts are with the lawyers now for finalizing."

"Good. Did you get everything you wanted? The stuff that was within reason anyway?" It hurts her throat to yell but getting up sounds so unappealing.

"Mmm, may have. But I'll keep that a surprise until later."

"Oh, intriguing."

Castle grins. "What about you? Did you fall asleep right after I left?"

She stretches, giving in to moving to continue the conversation they're having and standing. The blanket stays wrapped around her shoulders as she gathers her tissues to dispose of them. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.

"About an hour after, I guess. And by the way, we need to talk."

Her husband looks panicked. "About what? What's wrong?"

The tissues land in the trash before she holds up the remote she'd grabbed by accident. "Do you _know_ how much crap you've recorded, Castle?"

He laughs. No, he chortles. That's a good word for what he does.

"It's not funny. Do you know what your terrible recording habits subjected your unborn child to earlier? There's nothing that's not awful on the DVR."

Castle grins again, tilting his head and reaching for her. "Peanut doesn't mind. And don't lie, Beckett, you loved an afternoon of terrible TV."

His large hands slide over her belly.

"Maybe so, but really? The entire season of Teen Mom?"

"A cautionary tale for both Alexis and this one," he explains, his thumb making slow swipes over her t-shirt. She rolls her eyes at that.

"I think we can manage to parent instead of letting MTV do it, thanks. And year old Maury?"

"Character research."

Her head settles on his chest. "Can we at _least_ clear some space for more Temptation Lane? Get something that's tastefully trashy recording?"

He chuckles, resting his chin on her head.

"Whatever you want, Beckett. You're the new DVR management team."

She likes the sound of that.


End file.
